Oh if time is a river lets be stones underwater
"Do you hear that?" Remi deadpans, glancing skyward with an expression that might be mistaken for reverence if not for the annoyed squint, as if expecting Vi or Mort to appear from the clouds and offer the Knight their apologies. His grip on Ronin’s hand tightens slightly, and though the tease is light, the sigh that follows is heavier, less willing to be brushed off.
He runs a hand through his curls with an agitated flick. "From what I’ve heard he ended things with her because of what happened with Dahlia. If she’s still outside the barrier, clearly whatever he said didn’t make much of a dent. Then again who knows, maybe if she wants him back badly enough she'll fold." Then again, the idea of their daughter caving to a man like Jack Barclay and having that seem like a not terrible outcome was not a situation Remi thought he'd ever see himself in.
Still, the warm thread of the adventure lingers in his chest, golden and sunlit. Remi’s mouth twitches into a smile, and he’s just about to suggest building a retractable stargazing dome on the roof of the Northaven when Vox's voice tears through his thoughts like a knife through canvas, jagged and falsely cheery. His wing tenses instinctively around Ronin, and his jaw slackens as the broadcast crackles on.
When it ends, there’s a beat of perfect stillness, before wide-eyed and white-faced, Remi slowly turns toward his husband. "A more decisive phase of leadership?" he echoes, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and horror, his breath catching like it’s been struck out of him. "What the fuck do you think that means?"
He runs a hand through his curls with an agitated flick. "From what I’ve heard he ended things with her because of what happened with Dahlia. If she’s still outside the barrier, clearly whatever he said didn’t make much of a dent. Then again who knows, maybe if she wants him back badly enough she'll fold." Then again, the idea of their daughter caving to a man like Jack Barclay and having that seem like a not terrible outcome was not a situation Remi thought he'd ever see himself in.
Still, the warm thread of the adventure lingers in his chest, golden and sunlit. Remi’s mouth twitches into a smile, and he’s just about to suggest building a retractable stargazing dome on the roof of the Northaven when Vox's voice tears through his thoughts like a knife through canvas, jagged and falsely cheery. His wing tenses instinctively around Ronin, and his jaw slackens as the broadcast crackles on.
When it ends, there’s a beat of perfect stillness, before wide-eyed and white-faced, Remi slowly turns toward his husband. "A more decisive phase of leadership?" he echoes, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and horror, his breath catching like it’s been struck out of him. "What the fuck do you think that means?"
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
